The Hawthorn Wand
by SkinnyLittleLesbian
Summary: Sequel to the Willow Wand. In which Emma and Regina have graduated from Hogwarts. Swan Queen. Updates Saturdays.
1. Chapter 1

The work room smelled pleasantly, Emma found. The aroma of sawdust was comforting in a way, and the scent of August's deodorant accented the atmosphere. She loved teasing that he wore too much of the muggle toiletry, just as he loved mocking her affinity for muggle radio. The rusty device was blaring a crackly rendition of a Frank Sinatra song, and August was singing along with it – his pitch off and his version of the lyrics a far cry from perfect.

She snorted and rolled her eyes as she lifted her wand. With a flick of her wrist and a gently spoken charm, she added several yards of depth to the cabinet. It wasn't bad work, she decided, but it wasn't exactly challenging. She was naturally talented at charms, but she never thought that she'd end up doing charms for a living. It wasn't much of a living either, she mused; it was enough money that she could contribute to her living arrangement – but the important part of the job was that it was part time and left her plenty of hours to work on her art.

That was what she truly wanted to do. Unfortunately she had no formal training, so every apprenticeship she applied for wasn't interested in her. She submitted magically animated portfolios to all the major names in the business to no effect. Eventually she lowered her expectations – but even the more common artists had no place for her. She wondered at first if Cora Mills had anything to do with her being iced out of all potential jobs, but in the end she had come to believe she just wasn't skilled enough yet.

So she worked mornings at Gepetto's, casting charms and enjoying August's company, and spent her afternoons and evenings teaching herself different aspects of magical art and practicing portrait painting. Sooner or later, if she worked hard enough, she'd get a job that she loved. Being optimistic was a struggle after a year or two, but she slogged along as best she could. Getting a job would have been easier, she thought, if she had Regina's connections – but not everyone knew officials in the Ministry of Magic. Not everyone could get a job in the Department of Magical Creatures straight out of Hogwarts.

"You look pretty serious, Emma."

She glanced up and shrugged. "I'm allowed to be thoughtful sometimes."

"You usually love my singing."

"I never love your singing, you dork. I enjoy you making an ass of yourself."

She levitated a small clod of sawdust and flicked it at him. He lifted his wooden hand, deflected her shot, and flicked her off. His fake limb was a marvel of modern craft, or so he liked to boast. He never talked about how he lost the limb but never shut up about the wooden arm.

"Tell me a story," she requested. Though the work was easy, it was also a bit boring – she'd discovered early on that he had a knack for storytelling, and they'd bonded over their joint artistic inclinations. Their major difference had come in that August didn't mind working for his father, while Emma wanted nothing more than to do more.

"Once upon a time-"

0-0-0

Regina walked up the steps to their flat, her mind and body weary. After a day of wrangling nobble-nosed girattes, she was good and ready to eat a hearty dinner and fall asleep. However, when she entered the apartment, she nearly tripped over a pile of canvases. Her irritation skyrocketed. Emma only worked part-time – and yet the blonde couldn't take five minutes from her free time to keep the flat clean.

She kicked the canvases aside and counted backward from twenty to keep from losing her temper. She hated her job, but it was certainly teaching her patience. If she got angry while dealing with an animal, it might sense her emotional state and react accordingly. The first few weeks on the job had been tough, she reflected, but now she felt like she was slowly getting better at her job.

While her mother had never grown to accept Emma's presence in her life, the older woman had grudgingly admitted that there was nothing to do but wait for the relationship to inevitably fail. Grateful for this, Regina had felt obligated to do something that Cora wanted – which was pursue a career in politics. The only opening at the time she graduated had been in the Department of Magical Creatures, but Cora promised that she'd move up through the ranks quickly.

Regina saw no upward mobility in her future, as she had no particular skill with animals, but she constantly had her eyes open for openings in other departments. She'd transfer somewhere where she would actually be useful, and from there she could launch herself into the career Cora had always dreamed about. Once she was powerful, Cora could stop berating Emma's poor social standing, as Regina would have overcome it in her own fashion.

The blonde was in the kitchen. Regina wended her way past a few other messy piles and found her girlfriend stirring a pot of sauce. She kissed Emma's cheek, and, the moment she came into contact with Emma, she was reminded of why they were together in the first place. They were vastly different people, but Emma was beautiful and vivacious. Emma was the optimism to her cautious pragmatism, the cheery disposition to her ever-present frustration.

Emma turned, keeping the ladle stirring the pot with a wave of her hand. She kissed Regina more fully. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm making pasta."

"I've begun to believe that's all you're capable of creating."

Emma chuckled. "I have a few other tricks up my sleeve."

"I would hope so – otherwise we may have a very bland future ahead of us."

"I'll start looking up recipes tomorrow. I promise."

Regina pulled away and shooed Emma back to the task of cooking. She glanced at the counter, sorted through the bills, and noted a letter addressed to Emma. Though she was curious, she set it aside in favor of dealing with the financial notices. She gritted her teeth.

"Rent's coming due again."

"Oh. Is it that time of month already?" Emma grimaced. There was only one other time of the month that she hated more – but she was just glad the two didn't coincide. "I'm going to be a little short this month."

Regina turned so Emma couldn't see her expression. "Oh?"

"Gepetto closed shop last week for the exterminators to come through. Nothing worse for a carpenter than termites, right? Especially magical termites." Emma stared down at the pasta sauce. "Look, I know this isn't fair to you."

"No, it isn't." Regina kept her tone flat and even, though her innards were twisting into knots.

She had no idea how she was supposed to achieve upward mobility in life when Emma was just so content living this way. Rather than get a second job, Emma preferred pursuing her art. While Regina could respect this to a certain extent, she also recognized the importance of supporting oneself. She wanted a family – and that didn't seem possible with their current arrangement.

0-0-0

When Regina retired to bed, Emma found herself back in the kitchen with the letter in her hands. She hadn't gotten correspondence in many years – not since the last Howler Regina's mother had sent her. She snickered a bit at the memory; there was nothing quite like listening to Cora Mills screaming ineffectually about her purported faults. The woman was creative, Emma thought, if nothing else.

She slipped her fingers under the lip and broke the wax seal. There was no signature at the bottom, only a messily scrawled "Yours Truly." How mysterious. She almost threw the letter away without reading it, but her curiosity was strong. She read it quickly, once, and then reread it, not believing her eyes.

_Emma Swan –_

_Though you have no reason to trust me, I write to tell you the circumstances of your birth. You believe yourself an orphan, but you are in fact in contact with your parents. I know you're actually quite fond of them. They are a kindly couple who never wished to abandon you to your fate – but fate, like Bertie Bott's beans, is unpredictable._

_Of whom, you may be asking, could I be speaking? Brace yourself, Emma. Though I'm tempted to elongate this moment, to fill your mind with suspense, I realize that your temper has limits. I begin my story with two names: Mary-Margaret and David._

_Several years from your receipt of this missive, they will conceive a child. A daughter. You. They will build you a nursery. They will buy you toys. They will agonize over names. They will ask you to be your very own godmother. They will cry the moment you are born. They will hold you close and cover your face in kisses. They will swear to protect you always._

_They will lose you._

_This will not be their fault, at least not directly. In order to keep up with your care and maintain her position teaching at Hogwarts, Mary-Margaret will requisition a time turner so that she doesn't have to miss a single moment of your infancy. She will receive a malfunctioning device, which will explode the first time she twists it. You will get hit with the dust, and you will disappear._

_The moment I learned of your fate, I wished desperately for a means to save you the years of heartache that have befallen you. Yet, simply wishing for an outcome in no way ensures a higher probability – so I realized that my best chance at easing your burden was in writing this letter. Forgive me my limitations._

_Yours Truly._

Emma tossed the letter aside. Mary was her other? David her father? Whoever wrote that letter sure had a sense of humor, she thought. Having those two as parents would have been a dream come true. They were so utterly different than her adoptive parents, and she could only imagine what a relaxed childhood she would have had.

She closed her eyes and indulged in the fantasy. She would have had clothing that fit, and parents who spent more time with her than bickering with each other. She wiped at her eyes before pushing the comforting image away. Whoever sent her this letter was sick, she decided, as there was literally no point in telling her something like this. Her heart felt like lead in her chest.

Why, she wondered, offer her a fantasy only to remind her of the depressing reality she had actually lived? Where was the comfort in that? Lifting her wand, she pointed the tip at the letter, incendio on her lips. For several moments, she stood poised and ready to incinerate the damn letter. Instead, after a moment, she folded it up and shoved it into a drawer.

Several deep breaths later, she felt serene enough to go to bed without rousing Regina's suspicions. She padded to the bedroom, shed her clothing, and slithered into bed. She cuddled up behind the former Slytherin, buried her face in Regina's neck, and tried to sleep.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine," Emma murmured. "Go back to sleep."

"Your feet are cold."

"Sorry."

Regina's laugh rumbled deep in her chest. "I like it."

"Do you ever wonder about where I came from?"

"I thought I was to go back to sleep?"

"Well, since you're awake and all…"

"I can say with certainty that I've never wondered about that particular facet of you."

"I mean, it could totally change who I am, couldn't it?"

Regina's eyes slid shut again. "I don't think so, my dear. You will always be the same insufferable you."

"I could be Belgian, for all we know."

"Perhaps."

Emma tugged her closer. "I guess you're right, though. It doesn't matter."

Regina sighed. "If it will ease your mind, I'll see if there's anyone in the Ministry who can try to read your past."

"You'd do that?"

"If it's important to you."

"It is."

"Then it's important to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Regina checked the time on her pocket watch and sighed. Working at the ministry seemed to slow the passage of time to an unreal extent – despite feeling as though the entirety of the morning had passed by, she was dejected to find out that ten o'clock was still fifteen minutes away. Work was work, she supposed, and the job paid her half of the bills, but she was afraid that she'd die at this desk before lunchtime.

Perhaps, she considered, lunch was exactly why time was drifting by at the rate of a drugged snail. She had plans to meet Ruby at Mulberry's, and she was fairly excited at the prospect of seeing her old friend. Because of her mother, she was too used to her desires being denied. Her wait was elongated by the irrational panic that if she didn't have what she wanted immediately, the chances that she would enjoy herself slimmed. Even outside of her mother's control, she was impatient.

"Mills, how's that review coming?"

Regina glanced up at her coworker and tried to keep her tone civil. "Well, thank you, Jones."

He lifted his fake hand and flourished it. Rather than comment upon how well it had been magically animated, which was what he wanted, she turned back to her work. The problem with this department, and most other departments, too, she thought, was that people were more concerned with personal appearance and fraternization, rather than actually doing work. Even though she tacitly ignored him, he walked around to face her once more.

"I happen to know the Hobblegnocker is the safest family pet."

"Thank you," she said, fighting to keep her voice even, "for doing my job for me. Would you care to write that up formally?"

He shook his head. "I don't have the time to do your work for you. Perhaps you should actually attend to your assignment, rather than trying to pawn it off on others?"

His cocky grin belied his nasty words, and she understood him to be joking. Still, he was a fresh irritation that she didn't want to bother with. The best way to make him leave was to compliment his hand and get it over with.

"I see your hand has been updated."

He lifted his palm up and examined the very fine craftsmanship. "Did I ever tell you how I lost it?"

"Yes."

"I helped hunt down that rabid hippogriff. That's how I got this job, you know."

Please walk away, she thought. She glanced down at her pocket watch once more and found that it miraculously enough was time for her break. Standing abruptly, she smiled as apologetically as she could. "As interesting as this conversation is, my lunch break is about to begin."

"Later, then."

If later meant never, then she was in full agreement. She brushed past him and punched out as quickly as she could. With a dash of floo powder she was on her way to Diagon Alley. The fresh air did wonders for her spirit, and as she wended her way through the crowds, she allowed herself a small moment to feel happy. There were moments during which she felt as though her mother were still pulling the strings in her life – but then there were the times like this when she knew she was her own person.

"You're late," Ruby called. She had traded her Slytherin robes in for a much more casual garb, though Regina wasn't sure how the other woman got away with such a wardrobe, given her position at Hogwarts. Being an apprentice was certainly a step down from being a professor, but surely Ruby needed to dress more appropriately.

"I'm on time," Regina retorted. "You're just early."

Ruby lifted her hands in defeat. "You've always been better about the details than me."

"I suppose that's why I got the Ministry job you deserved."

If there was any lingering anger about that slight, Ruby didn't show it. She smiled and gestured for Regina to enter the restaurant. "I guess. But let's be honest – I never woulda been happy doing what you do. I like the freedom I've got now. And, hey, I don't think I told you yet, but they might let me teach the first years next fall."

"Have you worked out how to make the prey creatures calm around you?"

"I bathe in perfume the night before." Ruby wrinkled her nose. "It's almost unbearable at first, and Belle hates it, but at least the creatures don't die of heart failure the moment they catch wind of me. Also I hope you don't mind I invited her to eat with us."

Regina said nothing for a long moment, but responded before Ruby could apologize. "Very well."

"Look, I know you two have had your differences, but I'd really appreciate if my best friend and my girlfriend got along, okay?"

"I said very well, didn't I?"

"Besides," Ruby guided her back to the table where Belle waited, "you and Gold had the problems – she had nothing to do with it."

Regina could have argued against such an evaluation, but she decided to let the matter drop in favor of not causing problems over what was supposed to be the highlight of her day. She took a seat, nodded politely at Belle, and picked up the menu.

"It's nice to see you."

"And you as well."

"How is your work going?"

This sort of small talk drove Regina crazy, but she glanced at Ruby and decided to make the best of their meal. "Frustrating, I suppose. My colleagues are not, generally speaking, there to improve the conditions of magical creatures, or to advise the public about the dangers of certain species."

"Oh?"

"Perhaps it won't surprise you to learn that Ministry is more about posturing and family position than actual governance."

Ruby snorted. "I can see why your mom pretty much forced you in."

"It is an ill fit, I'm afraid." Regina's eyes darted to Belle. "We can't all do exactly what we want."

Belle held her gaze, not withering away as she used to do in their school years. "I've been lucky."

"Do you still see him?"

"Him?"

"Gold."

"No."

"So you took the job he offered and, what? Disappeared?"

Ruby set a hand on Regina's arm. "Look, Regina-"

"That's exactly what happened," Belle responded evenly. "And he was aware of the circumstances when he offered his assistance."

Regina took a deep breath. "The less he is around, the better off we all are."

Belle nodded. "I've often been told that my judgment of the characters of others is somewhat optimistic. Unfortunately, that's led to some – interesting – relationships."

Ruby laughed. "Are you talking about the one you're in now?"

"Yes." Belle winked at her.

"I wish-" Regina cut herself off. She didn't need to air her personal affairs, even if Ruby was her most trusted confidant.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. Forget I spoke."

"Is this about Emma?" Ruby paused momentarily while a waiter appeared and took their order. Contrary to Regina's hopes, she remembered where she was going and pressed forward. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just that she still isn't working."

Ruby frowned. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I've tried before, yes. Every time I mention jobs, she swears up and down that she's on the brink of finding something. But nothing ever comes from it. I just – I find it patently unfair that I work a job that I dare say I despise so that our finances aren't completely piss poor – and all so that she can try to follow her dreams." Regina stared down at her place setting. "Sometimes I wonder what happened to my dreams."

"They're still there." Ruby exchanged a concerned look with Belle. "It's not like you're on your deathbed, y'know? There's still time to change things."

This more chipper version of Ruby was mostly due to Belle's gentle prodding. The once reticent girl had blossomed into a more confident woman with hope for the future. Counter to this growth, Regina felt as though she had herself devolved into a less secure person. The stress of her life had broken her down where her mother had failed, she thought woefully.

"Can we just eat?" Regina waited until the waiter had served them all before digging in.

"Yeah."

Their conversation flowed away from dangerous, tender topics, which Regina appreciated. Ruby spent the better part of twenty minutes regaling them with her most recent story wrangling beasts in the Forbidden Forest. Belle's work in the national archives was quiet, except for the people who flowed through the library looking for the oddest of things. Regina realized that she had nothing to share and let the dark feeling in her stomach overtake her mood.

"I need to get back to work. I had a good lunch, though, so thank you for your company." Regina rose, reaching into her pocket for her money. Her purse was smaller than she recalled, and she immediately regretted ordering such a nice meal.

"It's on us," Belle replied. "I hope things get better."

Regina wanted to argue – she wanted to buy their meals for them, quite honestly – but accepted their charity with nothing more than a thank you and a dull flush to her cheeks. Once she was gone, the two remaining women leaned back in their chairs.

"She's uptight."

Belle nodded. "What are the chances, do you think, of her speaking to Emma?"

Ruby pursed her lips. "I wouldn't bet money on it. I wish there was something we could do to help."

Belle stood and kissed Ruby's cheek. "Be there as her friend and you'll be doing enough."

"Yeah, yeah." Ruby returned the affection and inhaled Belle's scent slowly. The standing woman was wearing a flowery scent, she noted. "You're really trying to impress this guy, huh?"

"He's a Beauxbaton graduate. He seems…" Belle searched for the right word for a moment before continuing, "Sophisticated."

"A real step up from me."

"I hope you're just teasing."

"Of course." Ruby sighed. "I'll be home studying up on a new species they've found out in the Amazons. Early reports say that the properties of its saliva could cure several diseases."

"Sounds thrilling."

"It would be more thrilling with you to tell me what the big words mean."

"Ruby…."

"I know." Ruby kissed her cheek once more. "Go have your date. I'll see you either tonight or tomorrow, okay?"

Belle nodded. "Okay. But be prepared to tell me all the boring details about this… this what?"

"A spleech."

Belle smiled. "Don't let Regina bother you too much. She's an adult, too. As close as you two are, you have to let her deal with her own problems."

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, that's true. Go on, now. Before I don't let you leave."

0-0-0

Emma brushed the sawdust from her shoulders and stretched her legs out. "Aug, you heard anything lately?"

He flicked his wand, silencing the radio. "Well, now that you mention it – yeah, I have."

Her focus snapped from her work to his face. "Seriously? You're not just kidding with me, right?"

"One hundred percent." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "This chick I know down near Knockturn, she's been out of town for a year or two now. She's not the most legit of people in the world, and she's had her troubles, but damn if her art isn't mind blowing."

"So?"

"So she's back now and she's setting up shop. The thing is, though, that she's pretty disdainful of formal training. She hates when people think they know what they're doing."

"I don't know what I'm doing. This sounds good so far."

"I heard she's looking for someone to train. That's her address, if you're interested. Just bring a few samples of your work, and tell her I sent you. That ought to get you through the door."

"August, this is – I can't even." Emma held onto the address with trembling fingers. "This could be it, y'know?"

He smirked. "Just don't forget me when you're some big famous artist."

Before he could start the radio again, she said, "I got this really weird letter yesterday. I was hoping you could help me figure it out."


	3. Chapter 3

Emma clutched her portfolio under one arm as she walked. There handles on top, but she was paranoid that she'd drop it somehow, or it would flutter away in the gentle breeze. Both were very unlikely events, but still she clenched her arm down and pinned her precious pictures to her body. Though she had been worried about finding the shop, the building was blatantly obvious even from the street. Splatters of paint danced and swooped around the bricks and banners billowed from the windows.

Taking a deep breath, Emma walked in the front door and walked through a very tiny front hall. The hall deposited her in a waiting room with nothing more than a chair with nails on the seat and a bell hanging from the ceiling. Emma grabbed the bell's rope and tugged – the resulting boom startled her backwards, as it sounded more like a cannon than a bell.

"You will wait."

"Okay." Emma glanced back at the awful looking chair and decided to remain standing. She examined the stark white walls and then, growing bored with that, began to hum under her breath. The nerves in her stomach were thrumming about and making her feel a bit queasy, but she refused to show any sign of weakness – at least until she'd made it a few blocks away after the interview. Then she could puke in an alley.

After several minutes, a doorway on the far side of the room materialized in the wall. It swung open, revealing a set of spindly metal stairs. Taking this as her invitation into the studio space, Emma began her ascent. The walls here were littered with magically enhanced paintings, but they all looked so –

"Enter."

Emma brought her thoughts back to the present. She shoved the misshapen people from the stairwell from her mind and tried to prepare herself. She was exactly what this woman needed, she reminded herself. This was her big chance to do what she loved. Confidence filling her, she stepped into the studio space and smiled.

"Leave."

"That's not fair." Emma searched the room for whomever had spoken. There was a handful of canvasses in various states of completion scattered about, a few half chiseled statues in the corner, and a half dozen open paint cans placed strategically around the room – but no other human being. Emma approached one of the statues and traced a finger along its face. Strange, she thought. The sculpture was of a half-man, half-monkey with a pair of broken wings. The features were so life-like that she almost thought the thing was real, but simply frozen by magic and cast in stone.

"I don't care about fair."

Emma jerked her hand away and looked around once more. "You said you'd talk to me."

"I'm sure this isn't the first promise you received that has subsequently been broken."

"You remind me of my girlfriend." Emma snorted. "You can use the fanciest language you want, lady, but you're not going to distract me, or confuse me. I came all the way down here to talk to you, and I'm not leaving 'til you give me a shot."

"Why should I?"

"If you don't, you're just like everyone else. Do you know how many positions I've applied for?" Emma knew she shouldn't bring up her rejections if she wanted this woman to take her on, but her frustration was beginning to overwhelm her. August had said this one was different, but it seemed that she was exactly as pretentious as the other masters of the craft Emma had tried before. "Dozens. All with people who claim to be the best. I started at the top and applied all the way down to the bottom."

"This is supposed to convince me?"

"I have no formal training. But I have a lifetime of wanting to do this. I have a portfolio of stuff I've done all on my own because I refuse to give up. I refuse to let a bunch of elitist-"

"Leave the portfolio and go."

"But-"

"If I like what I see, I'll send word."

"You don't even know who I am."

"Emma Swan." The voice rattled off her address as well. Emma took one last long look at the monkey-man before heading back towards the stairs.

"What do I call you?"

There was silence for a moment, and then the voice called out, "Z."

0-0-0

"It was like the single most surreal event of my entire life." Emma rubbed her forehead. "Like, talk about weird."

Mary-Margaret chuckled. "Sounds like you have a chance, though."

"My art isn't that great, though. I was really counting on her actually talking to me. I could convince her I'm worth the risk, y'know? That I'm trainable and willing to work."

"That comes through in your work, Emma, I promise. You know I framed and hung the picture you drew me. I love it."

If Mary-Margaret was her mother, she thought, she would have probably turned out much different. Perhaps she'd have the training she needed, as Mary-Margaret was so supportive. For a moment, she allowed herself that small fantasy – she pictured herself as a child actually receiving hugs and birthday presents and affection. She swallowed the surge of anguish and forced a smile.

"I'm glad and all, but still, I feel like I missed a great chance here. I don't know what I did wrong, or what I could have done different, but if I don't get this… I don't think I'll ever get a chance again."

"Think positively." Mary-Margaret set a hand on her arm. Emma glanced down, spotted the glittering ring on the brunette's finger, and smirked in response.

"Did you positively think yourself into that ring?"

"Isn't it perfect?" She sighed and held her hand to her chest. "It's not a proposal yet, but he wanted me to know he's thinking about it. We're not ready, but we're both excited for marriage in the future."

"Would you have kids?"

"We've talked about having two children – hopefully a boy and a girl. We wanted you to be their godmother."

"Did you have names picked out?" They wouldn't name a kid after her – that would just be weird. Emma wasn't sure why she was pushing so hard.

"Not yet." Mary-Margaret stared down at her ring. "Sometimes, I think back to when I was with James, and I honestly don't know what I was thinking. David is exactly who I need him to be. Do you know what I mean?"

Emma shifted uncomfortably. So she and Regina had to work a little harder than her friends to make it all work. That didn't mean anything, she told herself. "Yeah. I'm glad you have that."

"How are things with Regina?"

"Bumpy," Emma said. She hurried to add, "But in a good way."

"Emma…"

"I know you still don't get along, but she's my girlfriend, and that's what I want, so a little support would be great."

"She drives you crazy."

"And I drive her crazy. That's part of why we love each other."

"Did you tell her about the interview?"

"No. I wanted to surprise her if I got it. Guess I don't have much to share now."

"You should share with her, Emma. Part of a relationship is sharing hopes and fears."

"I know…" Emma frowned. She did those things with Regina. Maybe she didn't do them well, but she tried. Besides, not everybody could have the picture perfect relationship that Mary-Margaret had with David. They were just sickening together. Emma hated how jealous she was.

0-0-0

The wound on her wrist was large, but the bleeding had stopped. After wrangling an absolutely furious swarm of doxies, she decided that the relatively minor injury was less intensive than it might have been. If she had been a moment slower, she might have lost the hand. She had no interest in winding up like Jones – who was supposed to be helping her deal with the doxies. He had instead claimed that she was better suited to the task, so he would let her take the lead. Leading apparently meant doing all the work, she thought with resentment bubbling in her stomach.

When Regina tripped coming into the flat, she decided then and there that she was done. She was done working a shit job while Emma pursued her dreams. She was done living in a pigsty when Emma had more than enough time to clean up. Things were going to change, or she was going to leave. She slipped her shoes off and padded into the kitchen.

"Hey, Regina." Emma shut the fridge, a cold drink in one hand. "Long day at work."

"Mm."

"I have some news. I really hope it ends up being good news, but we'll just have to wait and see." Emma smiled broadly. "I interviewed with an artist this morning. It looks really promising. If I get it, I'll be one step closer to actually doing what I love. I've got a good feeling about it."

"Just stop."

"I-" Emma stuttered to a halt. "What?"

"You need to get a real job."

"I have a real job. If I get this training, I'll keep working for Gepetto, of course. I wouldn't just quit and go after this thing. I know I have responsibilities."

"Emma, I've given you more than a fair amount of time to pursue this; however, I can no longer just sit here and pretend like I'm happy to be with someone who isn't achieving anything with her life."

Emma flinched back at the verbal slap. "Is that how you really feel? I'm doing plenty – I'm trying to make something of myself."

"If only we were all so lucky as to have opportunities to do as we wished." Regina felt ill. "I've spent too long keeping us afloat. I cannot – I will not continue to be the only person in this relationship who is financially stable and moving forward."

"I am moving forward! I'm going to do what I love and be financially stable. You just have to let me try!"

"Why should I? Do you think I enjoy what I do?"

Emma shrugged. "You've never complained."

"I complain daily, Emma. You simply do not listen. I hate my job. But do you know what I do it?" Regina stepped forward and jabbed a finger at Emma's shoulder. "I do it because I must. Because you rely upon my money. I rely upon my money. I do what is expected of me. I will continue doing what I need to do because I know how to be an adult."

"Regina-"

"You live like a child, forever dreaming and never accepting reality for what it is. Your art is a hobby, Emma. Trying to make it a career is a fool's errand."

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you." Regina let the expletive roll of her tongue. She enjoyed the look of confusion that crossed Emma's face. "I'm done, Emma. Either you pick up the slack, or you get off my coattails."

"I can't believe you!" Emma glared at her. "I'm doing my damn best to do what I love. Maybe that's not enough for you. Maybe you don't want me to be happy because then you'd be the only one miserable. You work a job you hate, but I never asked you to. I never said, Regina, work that shit job so that I can do what I love. Just because you don't follow your dreams doesn't mean I shouldn't."

Regina clenched her jaw. "I need you to be an adult, Emma. I'm not saying give up your artwork – I'm saying be realistic."

"No." Emma shook her head. She headed for the bedroom, intent on packing a few day's worth of belongings. "I won't give up what I love. I won't turn into some bitter person because someone told me I couldn't do it. I won't be you."

"Emma-"

"I'm going to be at Mary-Margaret's. Send an owl if you get your head out of your ass."

Regina remained in the kitchen and fumed. Emma wasn't supposed to flip this around on her – Emma was supposed to feel bad about her lax behavior, and instead Regina was the one who felt like a child.


	4. Chapter 4

Regina scratched her quill across the parchment too quickly and with too much pressure. The tip buckled, and ink splattered over the work she'd already completed. Already grouchy, this little inconvenience made her want to rip up her work, scream at the next person who bothered her, and throw her inkwell at the wall. Instead, she waved her wand over the mess and muttered the incantation under her breath. The ink darted up and swirled back into the inkwell and she was left staring at her half-finished, but no longer ruined, report on whether insurance was needed for owning a particular designation of creature in a residential area.

She rubbed her forehead. This work was tedious, boring, and uninteresting. Though she made sure to provide quality work no matter what she did, she was quickly losing patience with this. Her work ethic was flagging – by next week, she estimated, she would no longer be able to perform at her usual capacity due to frustration with her assignment.

The job wasn't that bad, but she truly found Emma's resistance to work irritating. Here she was working day in and day out at a job that was boring but necessary, and what was Emma doing? Earning part-time pay and living out a dream that just wouldn't come true. Given her druthers, Regina would be flying for a national quidditch team, not writing reports behind a desk about creatures she cared very little about. Her grip on her quill tightened once more, so she took several deep breaths in an attempt to cool her temper. Her hand loosened, but her fury remained.

After all the work she had put in, she figured that Emma owed her some hard work in return. She ought to quit right this moment and sign up for a quidditch try-out. Emma would be forced into actually acting like an adult, and Regina would get to live the carefree lifestyle that Emma seemed so content with. She could turn the tables on how things worked in their relationship – but her desire for success kept her all but welded to her chair.

The candle that burned at the edge of her desk flared to life, and she turned quickly to answer the fire call. Expecting the caller to be her boss, she sat up straight, pulled a fresh bit of parchment over, and readied herself to receive her next assignment. The caller was, however, her mother; her posture immediately slouched, and she wondered if it would be possible to implement some magical form of what the muggles referred to as caller-id.

"Hello, Mother."

Cora's face flickered, and Regina hoped that their connection was poor enough that the other woman would just disappear. Her hopes were dashed, though, as the flame struggled back to fullness. "Regina, darling, I want you to come home this weekend."

"I'm busy."

"As I hear it, your little tryst with that Swan girl is over."

Regina felt a lump lodging in her throat. She hadn't ended things with Emma – she was frustrated with the reality-challenged woman, but she wasn't looking to end their relationship over one argument that had exploded in their faces. But if Cora had heard something, that might mean that Emma had done something to suggest – Regina derailed her thoughts and glared at Cora, whose words were quite obviously meant to make her doubt her partner.

"You've heard wrong. Though even you hadn't, what's that got to do with coming home?"

"I'm having a very important guest over on Saturday for dinner. He sounded quite interested in meeting you." Cora paused, waiting for Regina to ask about the mysterious man to whom she was referring. When she received silence, she frowned and continued. "Hans Westergaard."

Regina had heard the name before, and her forehead creased as she tried to place from where it came. After a moment, she remembered seeing it in the newspaper several months back – Westergaard was the new head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. His policies were aggressive, which roused the complaints of many conservative quidditch fans, but most had to admit that his tight fist and clear vision was bringing the department into current times quickly and efficiently. Regulations that had been nonsensically on the books for centuries had finally been updated – and Regina was fairly impressed. Making changes in the Ministry, no matter the department, was difficult, but Westergaard seemingly had no trouble getting things done.

If he was coming to dinner, and he was interested in meeting her, that meant that Cora was meddling once more in her life. But that also meant that there was a chance that he would hire her into the department. That was work she could truly put her heart into. She closed her eyes and imagined writing reviews after testing new brooms, or analyzing the most recent quidditch rule violation, and her mouth went dry with anticipation.

"I'm still with Emma, Mother, but I would be available to come to dinner on Saturday evening." She tried to keep her tone dull to communicate that she wasn't too interested in what Cora was proposing. Acting too eager would just let the other woman in further than she was comfortable. Dinner Regina could handle – Cora trying to sort through her affairs she could not.

"That's a pity. He's a handsome man, Regina, and very popular."

"I won't bring Emma."

Though Cora was aware that this in no way meant that Regina was considering leaving the lowly blonde, she took this as her opportunity to worm her way into the relationship. Before long, Regina would see things her way. Westergaard was charming and dapper – and came from a very good bloodline. He was, in essence, exactly what Cora wanted for her daughter's future. She simply had to find a way to make Regina want the same thing.

"Very well. Arrive at six, and dress nicely. The last few outfits you've worn to family gatherings have been subpar. Rectify this, or do not show up."

Regina puffed the candle out and rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure what Westergaard would gain from this meet and greet with her family, but she was going to use him to her own benefit. The only troubling part of this was that Cora expected her to do so. As she turned her attention back to her work, she set about writing more neatly and cohesively. If she were to land a job in Westergaard's department, she needed excellent referrals from her current bosses.

0-0-0

"You're kidding, right?" Emma let her head thunk back against the pillow. After two days on Mary-Margaret's couch, her back was sore and her ego bruised. Rather than side with Emma, Mary-Margaret was actually arguing against her. "How many chances am I gonna get for something like this? This is my dream!"

"We all have dreams we have to let go of, Emma." Mary-Margaret stirred a pot in the kitchen. She lifted a spoon, tasted the broth, and wrinkled her nose. Not enough salt, she noted, before adding a pinch of seasoning. Emma had continuously harassed her for using muggle techniques, rather than magical short cuts, but she steadfastly refused – there was more flavor the way she did things, even if it took a little longer. "Did you ever ask Regina what she gave up for you to pursue yours?"

This was not the conversation she thought she'd be having. Emma pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Nobody really understood, and she didn't have the slightest clue how to properly express herself. As a little kid, she had nothing but her dreams. In the hot summer months, when she was all alone with nothing to do and no pocket money to spend, she drew pictures in the dirt and told herself stories. The thought of doing that with her life was what fueled her academics in the first place, which, truth be told, she wasn't too great at. But without graduating, she'd never be an artist.

Not that being an artist was working out too well so far. She pushed down harder on her eyes. She just needed this one last shot – if she got the apprenticeship, she would do it, no matter what people said. If she didn't… well, maybe Regina was right. Maybe it was time to give up on this and do something utterly mind numbing with her life. The thought of sitting in an office, day after day, made her want to die a little.

"No," she admitted slowly. Now that she thought about it, she knew very little about her girlfriend beyond the time they spent together. She knew that Regina's family life had been rough, just like hers had been, and that Regina wanted more from life. She just had never bothered to ask what that 'more' meant to Regina. "She took that job right out of Hogwarts, so I just sorta assumed it was what she wanted to do."

"Does she seem happy doing it?"

"I guess not? She comes home in a bad mood, most of the time, and she really just complains about her coworkers."

"So why do you think she does it?" Mary-Margaret set her spoon down and cocked her head to the side. She didn't want to hurt Emma, but there were some things that Emma was overlooking. Were Emma not sleeping on her couch and eating her food, she would have kept her opinions to herself. However, Emma was at her mercy, and as such would hear what she had to say.

"Because she wants to get a better job later."

"She does it to support you, Emma. She does it because she knows that she has to provide for herself, and the ones she loves."

"I never asked her to do any of it…" Emma sat up and watched Mary-Margaret putter around the kitchen. "So it's really unfair that she's blaming me for it now."

"She's not blaming you."

"Then what's she doing?"

Mary-Margaret shrugged. "I can't speak for her, but I assume she – well, she resents you."

Emma snorted. "Yeah?"

"You've spent years trying to do what you love. She did what she had to from the start. It makes sense that she resents the chances you're taking on yourself, given that she didn't feel like she was given the same opportunity."

"But if I don't go for this-"

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just trying to help you see things from another perspective."

Standing, Emma jammed her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. "It just sorta feels like nobody's ever on my side. Like, you're my best friend, but you're telling me I'm wrong. You don't even like Regina."

"Em, as your best friend, it's my job to tell you the truth, even when you don't want to hear it. Especially when you don't want to hear it."

"Could you maybe try to pretend that you agree with me sometimes?"

Mary-Margaret let her soup bubble in favor of walking to Emma's side and pulling the other woman into a tight hug. "I'll agree with you when you're right, and not a moment sooner."

"Do you think I should talk to her?"

"It's been two days – I think that's the longest you've gone without speaking to her since the first few months you knew her."

"There were some long and bumpy summers," Emma argued. Although she didn't feel wrong about trying to be an artist, she was starting to get the picture that she wasn't the only one involved in her decision making. She let out a long sigh. "But you're right. You know she won't contact me first because she thinks I'm wrong."

"She knows you're wrong," Mary-Margaret corrected. She kissed Emma's cheek before returning to her cooking. "But that's the lovely thing about life – you can be wrong a few times and it's not so bad."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to answer to the woman who's always right."


	5. Chapter 5

Emma arrived at the flat at about the same time as Widow Lucas. The apologies swarming between her ears dissipated as curiosity took their place and her attention. She jogged up to the older woman, calling out a greeting as she went. Lucas bent her head stiffly to acknowledge Emma's presence; the lack of warmth slowed Emma's pace.

"You looking for Regina?" Emma dug her key out from her pocket and slipped it into the door.

"She requested I come by, yes."

"Something wrong with Ruby?"

"No." Lucas eyed her. "I thought you would have known about it – seeing as the request concerns you."

Emma frowned, unable to figure out what the cryptic message meant. "Yeah?"

"Regina mentioned that you were interested in reading your past."

"You do that?" Emma pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet flat. Regina, she deduced, wasn't home. At least, the brunette's shoes were gone, as was her umbrella and purse. "I'm not sure when she'll be back."

"I can come back."

"No, no!" Emma set a hand on Lucas's arm. "Does she really need to be here for you to work with me?"

"I'm doing this as a favor to my granddaughter – she wants me to help her friend, so I will. I'll come back."

"What did I do to make you dislike me?"

The older woman paused near the door. "I don't dislike you, dear. I just don't like you."

Though her desire to learn about her past was burning hot, Emma chuckled and let Lucas leave. It was better to talk to Regina first anyways, she thought. She wasn't a hundred percent wrong, but according to everyone else on the planet she was at fault for what happened and needed to apologize. She just hoped she could sound convincing enough that Regina believed her. The first step to getting Regina onto her side was to pick up the flat.

As she sorted through her art supplies, she had to admit that she had a lot of stuff and very little of it was organized or orderly. There were even paints that had been left open and had since hardened. She ought to take better care of her things, she thought as she tossed several galleons' worth of supplies into the waste basket. With a whip of her wand, she lined up the remaining supplies and marched them into the waiting maw of a plastic tub.

Over the course of the next hour, she scrubbed, dusted, and cleaned every surface she could. The hard work brought her right back to her childhood, but she ignored her discomfort in favor of focusing on what she was going to say to Regina to make things right. Regina had a point – she could see that now that she was cleaning off several months' worth of dust and grime. She had let things slip; that wasn't fair or right. But Regina shouldn't expect her to give up on her dreams.

"Emma?"

Emma stood slowly, her back aching from being bent in an uncomfortable position for too long. She hadn't heard the door open, but Regina was standing behind her, slightly wet and completely befuddled. Dusting her knees off, Emma offered the other woman a tentative smile.

"I hope you don't mind – I was cleaning up."

"I don't mind. May I ask why?"

Regina's tone was even, Emma noted, which was a positive sign that Regina wasn't too terribly pissed at her. Anger she could deal with – rage she was wholly unprepared for. Feeling more confident, she responded, "I get what you were saying. I've been really dropping the ball lately. I'm sorry."

"This isn't about cleaning, Emma." Regina set her umbrella aside and ran a hand through her hair. She hated getting unnecessarily damp, and rain had the tendency to make her grouchy if she had to be outside in it, rather than inside with a cup of coffee and a book. Because Jones hadn't wanted to investigate a claim that a group of muggles in the country had seen a family of Mokes, she'd been forced to make a trip out there on the rainiest of all possible days – only to discover that the creatures spotted hadn't been the shrinking lizards, but the their nasty, venomous cousins. A droplet of venom had splattered at her face, but she'd been quick enough on the shielding spell to save her eyes from semi-permanent blinding.

"Then maybe I'm not hearing you right." Emma gestured to the couch. "Maybe we could talk about it? Like – like adults?"

Seeing value in this, Regina eased out of her shoes and lifted her hand. "Coffee first. Talk second."

Emma plopped down on the couch and closed her eyes. Despite this being her idea, she had no idea what to say or how to say it. She was a physical sort of person – she preferred a good brawl to actually talking about her feelings. Still, she couldn't just slug her partner, or have angry sex (though she had thought about this on several occasions), so she used the few moments of Regina's absence to order her thoughts.

"So." Regina waited by the door – sitting by Emma would look like total forgiveness, she thought. It had been a long day, though, so when Emma slapped the seat next to her, Regina resisted for but a moment before giving in.

"So!" Emma cleared her throat and tried to smile. "What are you so mad about?"

"Don't patronize me with that tone-"

"Look, Regina, if we're gonna get through this, we have to be able to talk without like getting offended every few seconds. Do you agree?"

Regina huffed but nodded. "Very well."

"Lemme try again. Why are you upset with me?"

"Because you constantly think only of yourself."

"That's not fair at all!"

"Temper, Emma. I thought we weren't going to get offended."

Emma's lip curled back, but she forced her hurt feelings aside. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I've already told you."

"Yeah, well tell me again. Clearly you weren't explicit enough before."

"You continue doing exactly as you please even though it has a negative impact upon me. You work your part-time job, but have no plans to do more with your life."

"I'm going to be an artist-"

"Realistic plans, Emma. You have to come to terms with the fact that not all dreams come to fruition. You spend the money I earn on your art supplies, which you leave lying around for me to trip over when I come home from a job I hate!"

"I never knew you hated it!"

"Oh yes, because I come home with a giant smile on my face and nothing but kind words for my imbecilic coworkers."

"You never talk to me about any of that!" Emma had tried very hard to keep a cap on her temper, but her control had wavered, slipped, and subsequently disappeared entirely. "You don't tell me jack shit about what's going on for you! I used to ask, but you never told me anything! Hey honey, how was work? Fine? Really, nothing interesting? Nope, huh? Sorry for asking!"

Regina glared. "I'm so sorry I was ready to cater to your need to know exactly what happened during my atrocious days right after they happened."

"I never asked for details! I just wanted to be let in – and instead you kept me out. So, yeah, I'm super sorry that I never caught on that you hated your job so very much, but I'm not a mind reader. I don't know what happens, and I'm a little dumb when it comes to emotions, whether mine or yours, so I don't just know unless you tell me! Don't you dare try pinning this all on me, Regina Mills."

Regina watched Emma's chest heaving up and down and balked at the reaction she had just provoked. "I suppose I wasn't – You're right, to a certain extent."

"So tell me."

"I work with idiots," Regina said, the hot air fleeing her lungs. "I get hurt on a weekly basis. The credit for my work goes to others, who have done absolutely nothing but pawn their work off on me. There is no chance to move up from this position. Day after day, I do the same miserable work."

"I thought this would lead to other jobs."

"Well it hasn't."

"Man, I'm sorry." Emma scooted a bit closer, wary of Regina's possibly negative reaction. When Regina didn't move or glare, she settled an arm around Regina's waist. "Mary-Margaret asked me something I couldn't answer, and now I feel really bad about it. Uh, what would you be doing if you could do anything in the world?"

"Dream job, you mean?"

"Yeah. Like me and my art. What's yours?"

"I would have enjoyed a professional quidditch career."

"It's not too late-"

"Most players go profession direction after school. I'm several years behind, and several years too rusty."

Emma frowned. "I wish I had known-"

"I mentioned it several times during our last year at Hogwarts. You were, however, too focused on your artwork."

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Yes." Regina licked her lips and stared at the wall opposite. "But it's part of your charm."

"I don't feel too charming these days."

"Mother has set up a dinner date for me on Saturday."

"You're not thinking about going are you?"

"I am, actually. It's with the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Oh." Emma fought her defensive feelings. "So you'll just sleep with anyone who'll further your career? Is that why you're bored with me?"

"Do you even listen to half the words that exit your mouth? The idiocy that escapes is beyond-"

"You haven't touched me in a month, Regina." Emma folded her arms over her chest. "I get it. You've got bigger fish to fuck."

"Oh, please. Watch your tone and your language. We haven't slept together in a while because it's hard to find the time or the energy after coming home from my job to find that you haven't accomplished the most basic of tasks – which I now have to take care of myself."

"I already said I'd clean up more. I'm gonna pull my weight, Regina. So you don't have to go to this dinner."

"This is my chance to do something I want, Emma. I'm not going to pass it up because you're uncomfortable with me having dinner with someone else."

"Your mother's little plans always come with strings. You're doing exactly what she wants."

"No, Emma, I'm doing exactly what I want. I think after a few years of putting up with you doing exactly what you want, I deserve a little bit of the same. Or do you disagree?"

"I'm changing. I'm going to do better. Two wrongs don't make a right."

"I'm not doing this to hurt you, Emma. I'm doing this because I need to take care of myself for once. You should be happy for me. I'm taking the same sort of chance that you've been taking on yourself for years."

"I never slept with someone to get a job."

"I'm not sleeping with him."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"Your problem, Emma, is that you're a small child trapped in an adult's body."

"At least I'm not a bitter, malicious-"

Regina was grateful when a knock at the door interrupted Emma's rant. She silenced Emma with a sharp look that promised further discussion later and got to her feet. She yanked the front door open and found Widow Lucas waiting.

"Granny, now's not a good time."

"Hush, child." Granny stepped past her into the apartment. "I could hear you two from down the block."

Regina tightened her jaw. "Are you sure this can't wait?"

"I'm giving you my time. I know your mother raised you better than to question such a gift. Unless your time is worth more than mine?"

"Of course not. Thank you for coming."

Granny patted her cheek. "That's better. Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

Emma had to work fairly hard to ignore the stern glares Widow Lucas kept shooting her. The woman knew literally nothing about her except what Ruby had been told by Regina, so of course she looked like a huge bad guy. She was sure that Regina said nothing nice about her, as Ruby was the friend to whom Regina tended to vent. In Ruby's eyes, she was probably a horrible person and a terrible girlfriend. She rolled her eyes and focused in on the purpose of the older woman's visit.

"So you can read my past?"

Lucas drew her wand from the pocket of her robes and nodded curtly. "Take a seat."

Emma had previously been leaning against a chair at the kitchen table, but she quickly did as she was commanded. Lucas approached, the tip of her wand already glowing. Emma's fingers gripped the table top as anxiety grew in her belly. This could be the answer to so many of the questions she'd had growing up. She might find out just who she was.

"Get the dish."

Regina complied, and soon Emma found herself staring at a simple silver bowl. There were no contents, but Emma had a vague idea about what was about to happen. "I thought the pensieve only worked on stuff I actually remember?"

"This is a bit more complicated," Lucas responded. The tip of her wand nested against Emma's temple, and Lucas leaned so that their eyes met. "You'll need to relax and give me full control."

"What are you going to do?"

"This is a combination of legilimency and the pensieve. You may not actively remember, but the memories are buried deep within your mind."

Emma swallowed roughly. "I'm just supposed to let you wander through my mind?"

"You are the one who wants answers. I'm not here because I'm curious about you, girl. If you'd rather we didn't do it this way, I can offer you my alternative practice."

"Alternative?" Emma pulled back from the wand, her eyebrows inching up. If there was a way to read her past without having someone walk through her thoughts, then that would definitely be more appetizing. "What's that?"

"I meet with muggles who want their fortunes read. I jiggle the table a bit and tell them what they want to hear." The hand that didn't hold the wand settled on Lucas's waist. "Which would you prefer?"

"Don't waste her time," Regina stated. She took a seat and folded her arms. Her patience for Emma was incredibly slim given their argument, and she was already on the verge of letting her frustration show. If Granny were not present, she would be much meaner – but having a third party interrupt their argument was probably for the best.

"Fine." Emma let all of the air escape her lungs completely before inhaling again. "Let's do this."

"You may feel a bit of pressure. Don't panic. Simply keep calm and allow me to work undisturbed." When Emma met her gaze once more, Granny initiated the spell wordlessly and stepped into Emma's memories. Emma's body tensed momentarily and then went limp.

0-0-0

_While Regina undressed, Emma lounged on the bed. This was their home now, she thought excitedly. This was a new chapter in their lives, and they were doing it together. She didn't have to go home to that small house with her adoptive parents ever again, if that was her choice. There was just so much freedom that she felt drunk. The power made her head feel light, and she rose from her place to cross to Regina's side. She helped the dark haired woman with the last of her buttons and nestled her nose against Regina's neck._

_"I love you."_

0-0-0

_Wiggling her toes, Emma inspected her new shoes. They would do just fine. They were slim-fitting, black canvas, and she decided that they were probably the best shoes she'd ever had. When they were at the register at the store, she'd heard her mother muttering under her breath about not sending a ragamuffin to Hogwarts, but she didn't care about the reason. She just cared that there was no tape holding the sole to the shoe._

0-0-0

_Emma stood on the corner, letting the summer sun bake and burn her shoulders. Her spattering of freckles had intensified, as it always did during the summer, but she had long since stopped hating the dark speckles. The bridge of her nose had been singed a ruddy red, but she paid it no mind. Being outside, even in the heat, was much better than hanging around home with Him. After a lorry rumbled by, she strode across the street, heading for the small patch of shade that lingered under a nearby tree._

0-0-0

_"Damn kid," he grunted._

_She hid under her bed, holding her breath as he scuffled around her room. Even at five years old, she had the common sense not to let her presence be known. There was a bright yellow bruise on her wrist from the last time he'd gotten drunk – so now she sat silently and watched his tattered slippers as they padded back and forth in front of her bed._

0-0-0

_The spoon zoomed at her mouth. She opened wide, laughing, and accepted its delivery of mashed peas. She was happy._

0-0-0

_She was alone. The air was cold, and the sky was dark. Her crib was ornately hand-painted, though the one who had put such care into each detail was nowhere to be found. She remained in her crib, sobbing, until a nearby crup howled as he discovered her. A wizard crashed through the trees, and an unfamiliar face filled her vision._

0-0-0

_"Little one, you'll never be alone." A soft hand cupped her chubby cheek, then moved to pinch her nose gently. The owner of the hand smiled down at her, a pixie cut framing a rounded face and a chin that looked so much like Emma's. Peppering a kiss down on Emma's face, her mother beamed and reached for the time turner. "I've got to go to work now, but I won't leave you, either."_

0-0-0

Lucas tugged her wand away, drawing with it a thin, silver tendril. Tears dribbled down Emma's cheeks, but Lucas didn't concern herself with that. She moved the memory to the bowl and dropped it inside. It swirled momentarily before settling still. Satisfied with her work, she tucked her wand away and stood. Regina escorted her to the door, thanked her for her time, and said good bye. By the time she returned to the table, Emma had scrubbed her cheeks clean and was sitting stoically.

"May I view it?"

Emma shrugged. "If you want. It's pretty short."

"I don't want to infringe upon your privacy…" Regina trailed off because she really, truly wanted to see what Emma had. When Emma showed more apathy, she stared down into the bowl and let the memory take her.

"Whoever wrote that note," Emma said after Regina resurfaced, "knew."

Regina blinked slowly. "That seems – somehow impossible. I am aware that what I just witnessed was undeniable, but…"

"I know." Emma rubbed her temples with her fingers. "But, like, what do I do with this? I can't tell them, y'know? Otherwise it might change things."

"Would that be so bad?"

"The thing is, we fight and scream and insult each other, but you're the first really damn fine thing in my life. Fuck whatever came before, y'know? I have you now."

"What if you had a chance at a childhood full of love?" Regina leaned closer. "What we have now might not compare to a lifetime of actual happiness."

Emma frowned. "I'd rather keep something I have than gamble on something that might be."

"We almost came to blows just before Granny arrived."

"I don't always know how to tell you things." Emma lifted her hands helplessly. "I make a lot of noise, but I don't think you understand me."

"That would be a correct assumption." Tentatively sensing that they might actually have a conversation, Regina let the stress of her day so far go. If Emma was willing to communicate, she was going to listen. They had both invested too much into this relationship to simply let it crumble. "Go on?"

"Being an artist is the dream that kept me going when I was a kid. I get it, okay? I can't just keep taking from you, and yeah, it was dumb of me, but I just didn't think about it that way. You never said how bothered you were, and we both know I get my head up my bum sometimes." Emma tried smiling at Regina and was rewarded when Regina mirrored the expression. "I went on this interview thinking that this was my one last chance at doing what I always wanted to. I know I need to contribute more. I think about that a lot. But I don't think it has to be a one or the other – it's not be an artist or be your girlfriend. Can't I be both?"

"You can." Regina's voice was quiet and uncertain. "What do you need from me?"

"I need you to support me," Emma answered promptly.

"That's what I need from you as well. I'm going to that dinner this weekend, Emma, but it's not to cheat on you like you seem to think, but to pursue my own dreams."

"I can't even-"

"Tell me what you're feeling," Regina interrupted. "Don't just feel it at me. Tell me."

Emma blustered for a moment, not sure what to say – but gave in with a slump of her shoulders. "I'm jealous, okay? I hate the idea that you're gonna go have dinner with this guy when we're fighting. It feels like you're trying to get revenge on me or something."

"I'm doing no such thing."

"I hear you, I do, but I feel like you are, okay? I know being with me is sorta shitty most of the time, and that you're getting pretty much nothing out of this relationship, so yeah, I'm scared that you're going to go out to dinner with this handsome, charming guy, and you're going to be like, oh, what am I doing wasting my time on her?"

"Emma…"

"Seriously." Emma felt tears prickling at her eyes, but she pawed them away. "I can't help it. I know things between us aren't good right now, but it's all I have. I love you. So no, I wouldn't want to change anything in my life, except maybe make myself better somehow."

Regina grimaced. "Acting like you have does nothing to keep me close."

"I have to." Emma averted her gaze and tried again. "It feels like I have to. Talking to you isn't easy for me. It all makes sense in my head, but then comes out gobbledygook."

"You're managing right now."

"Now, yeah. But what about tomorrow?"

"I have faith you'll find a way." Regina moved closer and allowed her a small kiss. "This, right now, is why I'm with you. No matter how raw your emotion, I love that you feel strongly. What we have is imperfect, but I am of the same opinion – I wouldn't want to change anything either."

Emma flushed. "It'd be nice to hear it sometimes."

"What?"

"That you love me. I know you say it, but mostly it's a response to me saying it first, and…. I don't think you really mean it."

"If you can promise to speak your feelings, I can promise to be more forthright with my positive emotions, as well."

"So you're still going on that dinner date?"

"It's not a date," Regina corrected. "Stop calling it that."

"Sorry." Emma picked a fingernail along the tabletop. "But you're going, right?"

"Yes."

"I really hope you get the job," Emma said after a moment. It sucked that Regina had to have dinner with some guy, but hopefully the painful night would be turn out to be good for them.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma sat in the living room, her legs folded beneath her in an attempt to keep herself from moving for the next three hours. She had a variety of foods scattered across the table in front of her and a book waiting on the cushion beside her. When Regina left, she had plans to set up a magical countdown on the far wall, but she didn't want Regina to know how much this was truly worrying her. At least, she thought, Regina wasn't dressing like this was a date – the brunette was wearing formal robes, but she looked more ready for an interview than a romantic entanglement.

"I'm ready to go." Regina stood by the door, one hand on the knob. "No kiss goodbye?"

Though standing meant betraying her wish to remain stock still for several hours to avoid doing anything stupid, Emma clambered to her feet and walked over. As she pressed her lips to Regina's, she silently wished that things would go well for her girlfriend. No matter how she was feeling about the situation, she understood that Regina had a life beyond her, and she couldn't stand in the way of Regina's progress. Even if it hurt.

"I'll be waiting up."

"To make sure I come home alone?" Regina rolled her eyes – they hadn't spoken of this dinner in days, and Regina was fairly certain that Emma was going to try and use guilt to change her mind at the last second.

"To hear how it went." Emma recoiled quickly and returned to the couch. "Go knock him dead."

Regina watched her suspiciously for another moment before turning and exiting the flat. Emma tucked her feet beneath her once more, grabbed her book, and set about staring blankly at the page. Maybe she should have taken Mary-Margaret's offering of company, but she'd been too flummoxed by the reading of her past to say yes. She had no idea what to say to the other woman – or if she should warn Mary-Margaret against time-turners – or what, if anything, would mangle the way time and events were supposed to flow.

Still, having somebody with her during the silent, lonely hours until Regina's return would have been nice, she thought. The presence of another person would have made time pass more quickly, and she would have enjoyed the conversation. Instead, she sat on the couch and didn't read her book. After about ten minutes, she lifted her wand and conjured a giant countdown that glimmered against the far wall. She could do this, she told herself. She could wait three hours without going stir crazy with worry. This was just a business meeting to Regina, regardless of what Hans Whatshisface thought or expected.

She sighed deeply and forced her eyes to actually take in the words on each page. She read a whole page and glanced back at the clock – a mere two minutes had passed. Firming her resolve, she stared down at the page once more and ignored the world in favor of the story.

0-0-0

Regina arrived at her family's estate with no small amount of trepidation racing through her. She desperately wanted the job he might offer her, but she was worried by the simple fact that her mother had set this meeting up. She knew that once she entered her childhood home, Cora would scoff at her clothing and force her to change into something more alluring. This would rapidly deteriorate from business to intimacy, and she really didn't want that. As angry as she could get with Emma, she wouldn't spoil the relationship over one fight.

She had scarcely knocked as Cora ripped the door open and dragged her into a tight embrace. She settled her arms around her mother and wondered who had replaced the cool and controlling woman with this strange creature who welcomed her so warmly.

"Welcome home, darling."

"Thank you," Regina replied as she peeled out of Cora's hug. She looked beyond her mother and spotted a robust, red-headed man watching. Ah, she thought, this was the true impetus for Cora's actions. When there was no audience, Cora was quick to snap, judge, and criticize. When someone important was around, Cora was perfectly behaved. "You must be Mr. Westergaard."

He moved forward gracefully, took her hand, and kissed it. "You may call me Hans."

"Hans, then." She removed her hand politely from his grasp. "You may call me Regina."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Your mother tells me you work for the Ministry?"

"Magical Creatures." She tried to keep the derision from her voice but failed. His lips twitched upward. "I can't say I'm too inclined to continue there – but there's a lack of career opportunities at the moment."

"Ah yes," he responded, "the economy and all. It seems to me, though, that your family estate hasn't floundered at all, even with the market as it is."

"We've been very fortunate." Cora set a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Regina would love to give you a full tour."

"Of course."

Regina gritted her teeth even as she smiled at him. She'd grown up around people like him and had developed a keen sense for when someone was genuine, and when someone was simply trying to manipulate others for their own benefit. Though she didn't know what he wanted, she could tell that his kind words and polished demeanor were a disguise. As she led him from room to room, she tried to coax his real self out, but everything remained locked behind his mildly pleased smile and playful gaze.

"I must admit," he said after several rooms, "that I find you very alluring, Regina."

She managed a stiff smile. "Do you?"

"When you mother set up this meeting, I was a bit… worried." He approached a painting of her father and dusted his fingers along the frame. "I thought to myself – why am I going? This will just be another family trying to pander their way into my good graces. You, I expected, just wanted a job in my department."

Regina locked her hands behind her. "That is why I'm here. Don't let my mother fool you – I am currently in a relationship with no desire to-"

He turned around, grinning still, though the expression had soured in his eyes. "I appreciate your honesty. Perhaps after dinner we can discuss a tour of my facilities."

Unsure of what had just occurred, Regina shrugged. "I don't want you to feel used-"

"Perish the thought." He offered her his arm, and when she hesitated, he said, "This isn't a romantic advance – just the polite thing to do."

Warily, she set her hand on his elbow and together they went to the dining hall, where the table had already been set. She allowed him to pull her chair out, though she insisted on setting her own napkin on her lap. He tilted his head pleasantly and took the seat directly across from her, as per Cora's seating arrangements.

"Did you enjoy the tour?"

"Oh, very much so. Your daughter is a wonderful guide."

Regina watched her mother and her 'date' converse with narrowed eyes. It seemed that each of them had something they wanted from this evening, but she couldn't figure out what Hans wanted. When she had shut down his attempt at wooing her, he had only paused for a second before switching over and trying to be agreeable about her desire for a job. From what she knew, he was from a well-to-do family and so would have been raised with a healthy education of courtesy and manners – but this went deeper than not offending her.

Coming might not have been the best idea, she thought. There was a possibility that she'd get the job that she so dearly wanted – but she wasn't sure this was the best way to do it. Now she had to deftly maneuver through her mother's desires for her, as well as figure out what Hans wanted as well. This was fairly complicated work for just wanting a job in the department Hans headed up.

"What do you think?"

Regina snapped back to the current moment and shrugged, unsure of what they were speaking about. "I'd need to think more about it."

"Clever girl," Hans praised. "There are several people in my department who speak before thinking, and I swear I spend half my time cleaning the messes they create."

"I spend most of my time doing the work of others." Regina picked her spoon up and ate a mouthful of soup. "It's tedious work, mostly, so I understand why my colleagues refuse to do it – but I don't gain advantage over them for completing the work."

"Yet you do it because it needs doing." Hans beamed at her. He had a charming smile, she thought, but so did the giant Yuggergil snakes in India that hid under the beds of children and ate them up at night. "I don't ignore that sort of work in my department."

"Your employees must be very pleased."

"Regina has always been a hard worker," Cora put in. "Anyone would be lucky to have her in his life."

"Your daughter has informed me that she's unavailable, Ms. Mills." He bowed his head politely. "That small fact makes falling in love at first sight more difficult, does it not?"

Cora smiled at him, but it was the same smile he sported. Regina trusted neither expression. "He has, however, offered to let me see his facilities later."

"Oh?"

"I might not be the romantic partner she's looking for, but I happen to have an opening right now. It's not the best of work, but it's a starting place." Hans dabbed a napkin against his thin, pink lips. "You seem to be willing to do grunt work until opportunity presents itself."

Regina nodded. "How often does opportunity present itself?"

"We'll see how you do." He laughed cheerfully. "This is truly wonderful soup, Ms. Mills."

"Family recipe," Cora snapped. Regina could tell from her tone and stiff posture that things were not working out the way she wanted.

Hans, on the other hand, was loose and pleasant, which led Regina to believe that he was still getting what he wanted somehow. She wondered what he would gain from employing her. He set out on this evening believing her to be a date, yet was satisfied with her polite dismissal and still interested in her as a worker.

"Tell me more about your boyfriend."

"Girlfriend," Regina corrected. Though she was unsure of his motivation, she continued, "She's an artist and currently works in the field of charm inlaying."

"She sounds delightful."

"She can be."

"She's a waste of your time, my darling." Cora leaned forward. "Hans is a much better match for your ambition and your talent. Don't let her drag you down."

Hans lifted his hand. "We all want the best for our family and friends, Ms. Mills, but some decisions rest in the hands of others. While I appreciate the sentiment, I think it would be best to let her make her own choice in partner. I would have greatly enjoyed that sort of relationship with your daughter, but I'm not disappointed. I look forward to spending time with her in a professional environment."

Cora seethed quietly, so Regina took it upon herself to thank him for his words, even if she doubted their veracity. "That was very kind of you to say. I look forward to working with you as well."

As the meal continued, she persisted in pondering what Hans wanted from her. She would take his job offer, but she wouldn't yet trust him. He came from the sort of family she did, which meant that he was well-versed in hiding his intent until he had what he wanted. She could do the same. She would work as hard as she could as long as there was a chance at promotion, but she would use him just as much as he was using her.


End file.
